night, which she must attribute to a sudden fit of anger on Herr Casper’s part.  She was far too dear to all the members of the family for them to give her up so easily.  What had occurred—­she must admit that herself—­might have induced even her best friend to misunderstand it.  For one brief moment he, too, had been tempted to doubt her innocence.  If she knew old Eysvogel’s terrible situation she would certainly do everything in her power to persuade her father to receive him that morning, or—­which would be still better—­go to his office.  The weal and woe of many persons were at stake, her own above all, since, as Wolff’s betrothed bride, she belonged to him inseparably.

“Even without the ring?” interrupted Els bitterly; and when Siebenburg eagerly lamented that he had not brought it back, she answered proudly “Don’t trouble yourself, Sir Seitz!  I need this sacred pledge as little as the man who still wears mine.  Tell your kinsfolk so.  I will inform my father of Herr Casper’s wish; he is asleep now.  Shall I guess aright in believing that the other disasters which have overtaken you are connected with the waggon trains Wolff so anxiously expected?”

Siebenburg, twirling his cap in confusion, assented to her question, adding that he knew nothing except that they were lost and, after repeating his entreaty that she would accomplish a meeting between the two old gentlemen, left her.

It would indeed have been painful for him to talk with Els, for a messenger had brought tidings that the waggons had been attacked and robbed, and the perpetrators of the deed were his own brothers and their cousin and accomplice Absbach.  True, Seitz himself had had no share in the assault, yet he did not feel wholly blameless for what had occurred, since over the wine and cards he had boasted, in the presence of the robbers, of the costly wares which his father-in-law was expecting, and mentioned the road they would take.

Seitz Siebenburg’s conscience was also burdened with something quite different.

Vexed and irritated by the countess’s insulting rebuff, he had gone to the Green Shield to forget his annoyance at the gaming table in the Duke of Pomerania’s quarters.  He had fared ill.  There was no lack of fiery Rhine wine supplied by the generous host; the sultry atmosphere caused by the rising thunderstorm increased his thirst and, half intoxicated, and incensed by the luck of Heinz Schorlin, in whom he saw the preferred lover of the lady who had so suddenly withdrawn her favour, he had been led on to stakes of unprecedented amount.  At last he risked the lands, castle, and village which he possessed in Hersbruck as his wife’s dower.  Moreover, he was aware of having said things which, though he could not recall them to memory in detail, had roused the indignation of many of those who were present.  The remarks referred principally to the Ortlieb sisters.

Amid the wild uproar prevailing around the gaming table that night the duel which had cost young Vorchtel his life was not mentioned until the last dice had been thrown.  In the discussion the victor’s betrothed bride had been named, and Siebenburg clearly remembered that he had spoken of the breaking of his brother-in-law’s engagement, and connected it with accusations which involved him in a quarrel with several of the guests, among them Heinz Schorlin.